As I’ve mentioned countless times on-line and in person, I am primarily of French-Canadian descent. To date, I have tracked my ancestral lines to 600 colonists who emigrated from France to Québec and Acadie. However, as a Franco-American, my more immediate ancestors emigrated to New England in the late 1800s. In this, I am not alone. Approximately two million other Franco-American New Englanders are products of La Grande Saignée, or the Great Demographic Hemorrhage.
Fifteen of my sixteen great-great-grandparents were born in Québec. Most emigrated to New England. Of their offspring, three out of eight of my great-grandparents were also born in Québec, all three of whom emigrated. All four of my grandparents were born in Lowell, Massachusetts, as were my parents, my brother and myself.
These are some of their stories.
Historical Note: In the narratives below, I will refer to towns as being in Québec. However, the name of the territory had changed over time. Prior to Canadian Federation in 1867, the province was referred to by many names, such as Nouvelle-France, Province de Québec, Bas-Canada (Lower Canada) and Canada-Est (Canada East) and was an independent colony throughout that time, whether in the French or British system. It is the opinion of this author that federation, which stripped Québec of its independent colonial status, was one of a myriad of reasons behind the emigration. While it may not have been a primary motivator, the loss of an independent cultural identity may have helped sway many minds.
Georges Guérin and Ida Nero
On 29-Jul-1877, Henry Georges Guérin married Ida Nero in Lowell, Massachusetts. Henry was born on 12-May-1853 in La Prairie, a small town located across the St. Lawrence River from Montréal, and baptized at the local church, La-Nativité-de-la-Sainte-Vierge. In his Massachusetts Marriage Record, his name is recorded as George Garin, beginning a long frustrating series of incorrect Anglophonetic spellings, Gearin being the most common and, in some branches of the family tree, the current official legal spelling. How my branch wound up with the correct, yet unaccented, spelling is a story in and of itself.
George’s parents, Célestin Guérin and Florence Bisaillon, also emigrated to Lowell, along with all of George’s siblings, though some remain unaccounted for in the historical record. The last known record of the family being in Québec can be found in a church record in La Prairie. On 11-Jun-1870, a stillborn daughter was laid to rest in the parish cemetery, listed simply as Anonyme de Célestin Guérin. According to the 1880 US Census, Célestin, registered under the Anglicized name of Silas, was living with his family at 14 Davidson Street in Lowell. This building no longer exists and was probably torn down during the Northern Canal Urban Renewal Project, which took place in 1965 and led to the demolition of large portions of Little Canada. Florence passed away in 1886 in Lowell, followed by Célestin in 1905 in Dracut, Massachusetts.
Ida Nero was born in Malone, New York on 01-Aug-1860, the only one of my great-great-grandparents born outside of Québec. She was the illegitimate daughter of François Xavier Néron and Mary Jane Bridges. In the 1870 US Census, she is shown as living with her mother in the home of her maternal grandparents, Thomas Bridges and Mary Franke. At some point, probably after the death of Thomas, the Bridges family moved to the Lowell/Dracut area.
While George Guérin’s direct line does not go through Malone, New York, there were several French-Canadian families living in that area, including quite a few Guérins. It is unknown how Georges and Ida met, as, according to the marriage record, Georges was listed as a farmer. It was usual at the time for French-Canadians to meet while working in the mills, as will be seen in other stories. However they met, at the time of their wedding, Georges was almost 24 and Ida was 16, though the marriage record lists his age as 20.
The circumstance behind Ida’s birth was not difficult to ascertain. According to the 1860 US Census, her father, François, or Frank, was living in Chateaugay, New York, down the road from Malone, in a boarding house as an apprentice blacksmith. He was 18 years old. 18-year-old Mary Jane Bridges was also living in Chateaugay as a domestic servant. Both were living away from home. As Ida was born in 1860, it is almost certain that Mary was already pregnant at the time of the census. So, they either met each other while being away from home, or the couple, once her pregnancy was determined, left Malone to eke out a life together, or were forced to by their parents.
On 07-Dec-1865, Frank and Mary Jane’s marriage was registered in the newly-constructed Catholic church in Malone. Neither parents nor witnesses were recorded. Due to a lack of Catholic churches in the area, it was common for French-Canadian immigrants to practice common law marriage until a church was built, upon which they would register their union for the priest’s blessing. So while Ida was considered illegitimate at the time of her birth, the subsequent blessing rectified the situation. Unfortunately, Frank met an untimely end in 1870, which is why Ida and her mother were living with her mother’s parents at the time of the 1870 US Census.
Of all the lines in my family, Ida’s ancestral line would prove the most difficult to track down due to a lack of useful census information. For one, the Nérons had already settled in New York well before Ida’s birth. Her father, François, was born in Malone, New York as well, although he was baptized over the border at Saint-Rémi-de-Lasalle. It was his parents, Jean Baptiste Néron and Marcelline Boyer, who had been born in Québec and had emigrated to the US, Ida’s grandparents and my great-great-great-great-grandparents.
Ida’s maternal line, the Bridges, were just as difficult to track. Mary Jane’s father, Thomas, was an immigrant from England, or Ontario, depending on which census you look at. Her mother, Mary Franke, is a complete dead end in my records. The sources that I’ve seen suggest quite strongly that she was an orphan, possibly baptized as Marie Françoise in a Québecois church according to contemporary custom, and that her last name was an Anglicization of Françoise.
Louis Joseph Georges Ducharme & Marie Almina Ménard
On 13-Feb-1887, Joseph Ducharme married Marie Almina Ménard in Lowell, Massachusetts. Joseph had been born as Louis Joseph Georges Ducharme on 26-Feb-1866 in Saint-Félix-de-Valois, a small farm town roughly halfway between Montréal and Trois-Rivières and inland from the northern shore of the Saint Lawrence. His wife, Marie Almina Ménard, was also born in Saint-Félix-de-Valois, on 15-Jul-1866, implying that the two families might have known each other. That said, both sets of parents were still living in Canada, as per the 1891 Canada Census.
According to the Massachusetts Marriage Record, Joseph was working as a laborer while Almina, registered as Armilina, was working as an operator, a textile mill worker. Also according to the record, Joseph was 18 years old, but was 21 years old in reality. As occurs frequently in genealogical research, registered ages in records can vary widely from reality. Whereas in today’s modern world where one’s birthday and age is a major part of our official identity, in the late 1800s it was far less important.
While the couple would have three children together, fortune would not favor the couple. On 12-May-1904, at the young age of 38, Joseph would die from heart failure. It was also his daughter Laura’s tenth birthday. A bit over a year later, Almina would marry David Bellerose, himself a recent widower.
The Marriage of Henry Gearin and Laura Ducharme: An Early Assimilation?
The birth of the “Are we Irish or are we French?” question could be said to begin with this union, or perhaps, was amplified.
Henry Gearin was a master carpenter and home builder. In the 1930s, he operated a business with his brother-in-law, Joseph Narcisse Hogue. Family anecdotes tell of a man who was able to buy a brand new car every two years with cash. When Joe Louis fought for the heavyweight boxing title, Henry bought a ticket, jumped on a train, and watched the fight live. He also, in spite of his lineage, could neither speak nor understand French.
Going back into the family history, one can see the influence of Ida Nero on the family. While Ida was born of a Franco-American father, she was raised by her mother’s English family in New York. She was not from a French-speaking family. As a new immigrant to New England, it is not much of stretch to suppose that Georges was able to assimilate with the help of his wife.
As a farmer, initially, and carpenter, Georges was somewhat independent from the textile mill worker set. With Ida’s help in learning his new language, the couple were able to acquire quite a few tracts of land in the Kenwood section of Dracut in what can be considered as land speculation. Additionally, their circle extended beyond the Franco-American community. As there are indeed Irish Guerins, one can see marriages of Henry’s siblings into Irish families and a possible claiming of Irish ancestry to further business contacts among the burgeoning Irish-American community. Finally, many of the siblings had taken the Anglophonetic “Gearin” name in an official capacity.
To further illustrate the Irish connections, we can look into the records of Georges’ and Ida’s other children and see a (roughly) 50/50 split among French and Irish spouses:
- Rose Anna Guerin: married Donat Poirier, then married Thomas Sheehan in Maynard after Donat’s passing
- George F Guerin: married Annie M Shanahan in Boston
- Thomas Albert Gearin: married Mary Parent in Dracut
- Ida May Guerin: married Armand Leland in Lowell
- Mary Charlotta Gearin: married Walter Sweeney in Lowell
- Arthur Walter Gearin: married Olive Bellerose in Lowell
It is said that Henry took advantage of this dual identity. Lucrative construction contracts did take place between Irish-Americans and his company. After only one generation, it seems that the “Gearins” had assimilated into the English-speaking New England community.
When Henry married Laura Ducharme in 1911 in Dracut, Massachusetts, it was her influence that led to a reintroduction of French into the family dynamic. My grandfather and their first-born son, Joseph Henry Philippe Guerin, went to French-language Catholic schools and learned French. While French was not spoken as much in the house as compared to other Franco-American households, it was reintroduced. In fact, it was their son’s introduction to French Catholic schools that led to his learning the correct spelling of his name as Guerin. His siblings, however, kept the Gearin spelling. My grandfather’s line, which includes my father’s and my uncle’s families, is the only line which uses the original spelling of the last name.
Henri Stapleton Adams & Lucie Lampron
The story of the Adams family really begins with Henri’s parents, Henry Stapleton Adams and Marie Mathilde Rivard dite Lacoursière. On 18-April-1843, Henry married Marie Mathilde in the Protestant church in Louiseville. The marriage was a bit of a scandal, not only because Henry was Protestant and Marie Mathilde was Catholic, but because Henry was listed in the marriage record as being 70 years old, while Marie Mathilde was listed as being 19. According to the marriage record, Marie Mathilde’s parents did not attend, but did give their blessing. Six months after the marriage, their first-born son, Henri, was born on 16-Oct-1843, giving evidence of the primary reason behind the union.
Henry was an immigrant from England who was working as a miller in the nearby town of Saint-Ursule. Marie Mathilde was a domestic servant. It’s a story as old as the hills. After discovering that Marie Mathilde was pregnant, the couple wed. However, much can be said of the couple as five more children were born to them. However, in 1854, Henry passed away leaving a young widow with six children. In subsequent Canadian censuses, Marie Mathilde’s occupation was listed as journalière, or day laborer.
On 23-Oct-1865, Henri married Lucie Lampron in the church of Saint-Antoine-de-Padoue in Louiseville. Together, the couple would have six children, among them Jean Auguste Adams, my direct ancestor.
While most of my great-great-grandparents emigrated to the United States, Henri and Lucie did not. In fact, both passed away before the age of 50. Lucie died on 25-Jul-1887 and Henri died on 18-Dec-1889. Jean, their youngest child, was only 12 years old when his father died. By the time of the 1891 Canada Census, Jean is living with the family of his eldest brother, Henri.
With little prospect in Québec, by 1900, Jean, recorded as the Anglicized John, has married Marie Mélanda Pronovost in Providence, Rhode Island.
François Xavier Pronovost & Marie Élisabeth Pronovost
Compared to the colonization of the United States, the colonization of Québec was not sponsored by their managing governments. England routinely offered land to colonists in their overseas possessions. France did not, though there were exceptions. Because of this, the colonial populations of the Thirteen Colonies exploded relative to the French colonial population of Québec. One side effect of this is that the variety of surnames in Québec seems more limited than those in the United States.
On 16-Oct-1860, after receiving a consanguinity dispensation from the Catholic Church, François Xavier Pronovost married Marie Élisabeth, or Zélie, Pronovost in the town of Saint-Stanislaus-de-Champlain, or Deux Rivières. As the dispensation and common surnames might hint, the couple were distantly related, albeit closer than most. They were, in fact, second cousins, once removed. Their common ancestors were Ignace Rouillard and Marie Anne Desranleau dite Châteauneuf.
The idea of cousins marrying will rub people the wrong way. However, it was, and is, more common than one might think. As genealogists like to say, another word that describes sixth cousins is “strangers”. In the end, we are all related and cousins to some degree. That said, the smaller that “Nth” becomes, the trickier things get. The Catholic Church, with its record keeping, kept a close eye on such things knowing that there were genetic issues related to such close breeding, even if it wasn’t fully understood. When 5th or later cousins marry, there is nary a concern. For 3rd or 4th cousins, the Church would look back into the records to ensure that there was enough uncommon ancestry in the family trees to allow the marriage. In these cases, they would issue a consanguinity dispensation.
On 25-Feb-1877, Marie Mélanda Pronovost was born in Saint-Tite, a small town north of Trois-Rivières. When Marie Mélanda was 17 years old, her mother passed away at the age of 53. Whether or not this was an impetus to her emigration is unknown. However Marie Mélanda met Jean Auguste Adams in Providence, Rhode Island and, on 23-April-1900, the couple were married.
The Tragic Tale of Jean Auguste Adams and Marie Mélanda Pronovost
On 17-Feb-1919, Marie Mélanda passed away from pulmonary tuberculosis in Lowell, Massachusetts. She was 41 years old. In the 19 years of her marriage to Jean Auguste Adams, the couple had five children, the youngest of whom, Marie Rose Lucienne, was my grandmother. At the time of Mélanda’s passing, they were living at 10 Lilley Avenue, a hop, skip and a jump from my walking route to Saint-Louis-de-France School on West Sixth Street when I was 5 years old. My grandmother was only three years old at the time of her mother’s passing.
The passing of her mother at such a young age, and her father’s subsequent remarriage to Christiana Butterworth, herself a widow, and with four children of her own, severely affected my grandmother’s emotional well-being. With Jean having lost his parents at such a young age, and now his first wife, my grandmother was left with a step-mother’s love, never guaranteed. It affected my grandmother’s understanding of, and capacity for, expressing love for the rest of her life. To highlight this, I can say for a certainty that Mémère Guérin only attended one of my early birthday celebrations and I vaguely remember some kind of family drama as the grandparents did not get along with each other. After that, her birthday presents to me arrived by mail.
Jean Auguste Adams would pass away in Lowell in December, 1965, within two months of my birth.
An Interlude: The Guérin Ancestral Tree
To this point, I’ve described the Guérin ancestral tree with all of its tragedies. Of the 12 great- and great-great-grandparents in this half of my family tree, six, or half, passed away before the age of 60. Not mentioned above was Ida Nero, who passed away at the age of 54 from chronic intestinal nephritis. And, of the six, four passed away before the age of 50.
As one might be able to imagine, the early death of one’s parents in a society without economic safety nets rings a death knell for any sort of economic prosperity, whether in the immediate or for the following generations. This certainly also holds true for the case of Henry Stapleton Adams and Marie Mathilde Rivard dite Lacoursière as well. While Henry died after the age of 80, the vast age difference between them meant that his passing left a young widow and her children behind. It would have had the same emotional and economic effect. Given these hardships, it is very understandable why an emigration to a land promising greater opportunities was taken.
Joseph Jérémie Robert & Marie Emma Ernestine Rougeau
On 18-Jun-1878, Joseph Jérémie Robert married Marie Emma Ernestine Rougeau dite Berger at Saint-Marc-sur-Richelieu. Both the bride and groom were from that small farm town on the banks of the Richelieu River northeast of Montréal. Jérémie was born there on 12-Dec-1854 and Ernestine was born there on 06-Jan-1859.
It is unknown when the Roberts emigrated to the United States. However, their first-born daughter, Maria Exilda Robert, was born on 08-Dec-1881 in Nashua, New Hampshire, a mere three years into the marriage.
Their second child, Joseph Alphonse Robert, was born on 17-Apr-1885 in Saint-Marc-sur-Richelieu while his family was visiting extended family in their old home town. As a result, Alphonse had to go through the naturalization process to become a US citizen, a situation my mother states he often joked about given that his sister was a citizen by birth.
Now is a good time to discuss US citizenship given the current political climate. Stories among Franco-Americans tell of how their ancestors “did the right thing” and became naturalized citizens. These stories are often told in comparison to contemporary accounts as a way to elevate themselves from the “unwashed” coming into the country. These stories, however, are wrong. Provably wrong.
The US Census records of the late 1800s and early 1900s often asked people their countries of origin, when they arrived in the US, and if and when they were naturalized. For the vast majority of French-Canadian immigrants, they did not become naturalized US citizens. They relied on birthright citizenship to grant their children citizen status. The reason why is simple and straightforward. There was no need to. There were no special services to take advantage of. There were no economic safety nets, such as those provided in the wake of the Great Depression. One simply arrived in country and found a job and you were on your own… like all the other people around you, immigrants and citizens both. In that way, it was a bit of an even playing field. Any unfairness had more to do with the lack of worker’s rights, and plain, old-fashioned social and economic discrimination, than any services the government did or did not provide.
Maria Exilda Robert and Joseph Olivier Duguay
On 02-Jul-1923, Maria Exilda married Joseph Olivier Duguay in Lowell, Massachusetts. Unfortunately, the couple would have no children.
I only have a very vague recollection of my “Matante Maria”, my great-great-aunt. My family visited her in the nursing home for her 90th birthday in 1971. I was only 6 years old.
Joseph Olivier Duguay passed away at the age of 57 on 09-Jan-1956 in Chelmsford, Massachusetts. He was a veteran of the US Army and served from 07-Mar-1917 to 06-Jul-1921. While his unit, the 13th Cavalry Regiment, did not serve in Europe, it did take part in the Punitive Expedition following Pancho Villa’s raid on Columbus, New Mexico. As part of this expedition, Private, 1st Class Joseph Olivier Duguay received the Purple Heart for a bullet wound received on his upper arm.
Joseph Albert Arthur Berger & Marie Édouardina Charette
On 04-Feb-1890, Joseph Albert Arthur Berger married Marie Édouardina Charette in Lowell, Massachusetts. Joseph Albert Arthur Berger was born in Saint-Marc-sur-Richelieu on 16-Jul-1868. Marie Édouardina Charette was born on 12-Mar-1869 in Notre-Dame-du-Mont-Carmel.
The marriage date for the couple is telling in the case of Dina Charette. On 10-Sep-1889, her father, Isaac (or Israël) Charette passed away at the age of 55. He was her last living parent. Dina was 20 years old.
Due to missing church records between 1884 and 1889, it is difficult to piece together information about the family. The best I can detail can be gleaned from the 1881 Canada Census. At the time of that census, Isaac Charette and his family were living in Notre-Dame-du-Mont-Carmel. He was married to Françoise Boivert and the couple had six children: Victoria, Georgiana, Édouardina, Françoise, Marie and Narcisse. At some point between 1884 and 1889, the mother passed away. Canadian marriage records show two of the sisters getting married. The fates of three of Dina’s other siblings remains unknown.
For unknown reasons, Dina decided to emigrate to New England instead of staying local to her family. By doing so, she was separated from her siblings. This separation lasted until a momentous reunion in Lowell, Massachusetts some time in the late 1940s / early 1950s. During that reunion, she was reunited with her eldest sister, Victoria, who came down from Shawinigan by train.
My mother, then a young girl, has distinct recollections of the meeting, a primary memory being the sight of two women often holding hands, as if trying to bridge a great distance. With family ties reestablished, soon after, my mother’s family drove to Mont Carmel and met their distant relatives. And so began a familial link spanning generations. “Canada” would visit my house occasionally and my parents would visit Canada. Invitations to children’s weddings followed. Discussions would often refer back to “How are we related again?” They were 4th cousins… a very long link back.
By the time of the reunion, Dina Charette (Robert) was now, as my mother names her, “Mémère Pouliot”. After her divorce, she remarried in 1923. Her second husband was Charles Romauld Pouliot, himself an emigré from Saint-Lazare-de-Bellechasse.
François Xavier Hervieux & Marie Hermeline Robillard
On 10-Oct-1870, François Xavier Hervieux married Marie Hermeline Robillard at Sainte-Émélie-de-l’Énergie, a very small town over 100km north of Montréal. Neither bride nor groom were from this town. François was born on 10-May-1847 in Lanoraie, a small town along the northern shore of the Saint Lawrence Seaway halfway between Montréal and Trois-Rivières, and Marie Hermeline was born on 22-Jan-1849 in Saint-Félix-de-Valois, making her her a third great-great-grandparent born in that town.
Research into the family of François and Hermeline has been difficult to pin down. On 03-Apr-1882, possibly, Alfred Hervieux was born in Cohoes, New York in the Albany area. This raises the possibility that François and his family was one of those migrating working families who crossed the border many times following seasonal work.
However, the next census information I could find was the 1901 Canada Census, which shows François and Marie living in the Hochelaga Ward of Montréal with two of their daughters: Armenie and Eugénie. This census record, however, contains some very interesting data. For one, the daughters birthdates are listed as 17-Mar-1884 and 09-Mar-1890. It is their birthplaces, however, which tell a story. Armenie was also born in Cohoes, New York. Eugénie was born in Lowell, Massachusetts, hinting that the entire Hervieux clan moved to Lowell, Massachusetts before some portion of the family moved back to Québec. 17-year-old Armenie’s occupation in the census is registered as “twisteuse”, a textile worker. Both daughters are listed as “Americaine”. Interestingly, their year of immigration is listed as 1889, which would be a year before Eugénie’s birth. Perhaps she was born in the US during a visit.
Joseph Jean Baptiste Brunelle & Marie Aurelie Morin
On 25-Jun-1876, Joseph Jean Baptiste Brunelle married Marie Aurelie Morin at Saint-Cyprien-de-Napierville, a small farming town roughly halfway between Montréal and Lake Champlain along the Vermont / Québec border. While Jean Baptiste was originally from that town, having been born there on 26-May-1846, Marie Aurelie was born on 04-Jun-1851 in L’Acadie, a small town outside of Saint-Jean-sur-Richelieu. That said, while Jean Baptiste wasn’t born in L’Acadie, both of his parents had been.
The founding of the town of L’Acadie has its roots in cultural genocide. During the French and Indian War, and beginning with the fall of Fort Beausejour in the French colony of Acadie in 1755, and continuing in a second phase after the fall of Fortress Louisbourg in 1758, the victorious British, with their New England colonial accomplices, engaged in the Acadian Expulsion, the forceful removal of French Acadian colonists. It is through my ancestry via Marie Adèle Bourgeat, Jean Baptiste’s mother, and through her mother, Marie Monique Lanciault, to Marie Modeste Doucet that I can claim Acadian descent.
L’Acadie was founded as a town in the aftermath of the French & Indian War to provide a home for any displaced Acadians who wished to return to a French colony. It was here that the Brun family settled, along with the Doucet girls (Marie Modeste’s mother had remarried after the death of her husband prior to the war), after gaining permission and leaving their captive homeland of Massachusetts. It was also here that Marie Modeste met and married François Nicolas Lanciault dit La Lime, a veteran of the war who had served in Régiment La Reine.
Neither Joseph Jean Baptiste Brunelle nor Marie Aurelie Morin emigrated to the United States. Both remained in Napierville and saw to the raising of their 12 children. It was their sixth child, Marie Anna Brunelle, born on 14-Jan-1884, who emigrated to the United States. On 21-Nov-1905, she married Alfred Hervieux in Lowell, Massachusetts. In the marriage record, both she and Alfred were listed as mill operatives.
Mémère Robert & Mononcle Freddie
Of all of the descendants of my great-great-grandparents, I was probably closest to the Hervieux clan. The reasons were simple.
On 06-Jul-1918, Marie Cécile Angéle Hervieux was born in Lowell, Massachusetts to Alfred and Marie Anna. On 12-Oct-1940, she would marry Joseph Henry George Robert in Lowell. In 1944, my mother would be born. Cécile, as she was known by her contemporaries, was my grandmother, Mémère Robert. When I discovered her full name in the early days of my genealogical research, I was quite pleased, because everyone’s grandmother should also be named as an angel. Unfortunately, that moniker also struck too close to home as my grandmother was taken away from us too early, passing from cancer at the age of 59. I was in the seventh grade.
My grandmother would visit us often. As my mother was a hairdresser by trade, my grandmother, as well as my aunts and various acquaintances, would come to our home to have their hair done. And on every visit, Mémère Robert would bring my brother and me a candy bar of some sort from Laporte’s drug store where she worked as a cashier. While the memories are now distant, I always remember her as a gentle and loving soul. Such are the qualities we should all aspire to.
While this was before my time, my grandmother was also a professional dressmaker. My mother tells stories of how she and her sister always had home-made outfits that my grandmother would make, usually from leftover textile material from the mill where she worked. Unfortunately, it was probably this time in the mill and exposure to various dyes and chemicals which gave her the cancer. Such is the cost of an industrialized world.
Her passing was the first major loss in my life.
On 10-Jan-1920, her brother, Joseph Leo Alfred Hervieux was born. Such read the birth certificate. To me, he was Mononcle Freddie.
In 1965, the year of my birth, my parents were living upstairs in a converted New Englander on Farmland Road in Lowell. Originally a single-family house, it was converted to provide a rental apartment for college students attending nearby Lowell Technological Institute, later the North Campus of the University of Lowell, my alma mater. When my parents were married in 1964, Mononcle Freddie and Matante Thérèse offered the apartment to my parents. It was in this house where I began my life. I was to find out much later that the house had belonged to my great-grandparents, Alfred Hervieux and Marie Anna Brunelle, and that my bedroom had been Mémère Robert’s bedroom when she was a girl.
Living upstairs from Mononcle Freddie and Matante Thérèse was like having a second set of grandparents living with you. And, of course, my older second cousins, Cecile and Bernadette, babysat me and my brother quite often. It was a very happy place to start a life.
One very distinct memory for me was a Saturday morning when I was four years old or so. It was spring or summer; I forget which. It was also early morning, early enough where everyone was still asleep. Me being me, that didn’t stop me from putting on my clothes and going outside. Surrounding the yard was a white picket fence; what happy memory doesn’t have a white picket fence in it. Anyway, I was leaning against the fence looking into the next door neighbor’s yard and I had squeezed my knee in between two of the pickets. So much so, that I was stuck. After trying for a while to dislodge it, I began to panic a little, but then I figured that people would eventually wake up. So I stood there and went back to my contemplations, or whatever it was that 4-year-old me was thinking about. Eventually, after what seems like eternity, Mononcle Freddie came outside and called out to me, asking if I was ok. I told him that my knee was stuck. So he went into his basement and got some tools freed my knee. I also remember that he asked me if my parents knew where I was and I think I told him that they were asleep.
This was not the first time that I left the apartment when my parents were sleeping. One morning, prior to the fence incident, my mother woke up and couldn’t find me in the apartment. So she went downstairs and found me with Matante Thérèse in the kitchen. I had come downstairs, knocked on their door and asked for some toast, which my (great-)aunt happily obliged. I might have been two or three years old at the time.
When we moved to Dracut, my brother and I cried during the drive to the new house. Farmland Road was such a happy place for us. Whenever I drive along Lakeview Avenue today and pass by the end of Farmland Road, I always look up the street and smile.
Overcoming Obstacles
Missing from these personal stories are observations of the greater Franco-American immigration experience. Those stores are better told by folks more versed in the details, such as David Vermette’s “A Distinct Alien Race”. That said, it was the mill life and the opportunities it presented that lured folks in difficult economic situations to shed their lives and culture behind. It was all about “survivance”, survival, a fundamental reason behind most emigration stories and one we should all remember and consider when discussing current events.
Most of us Franco-Americans did alright in the wake of the great emigration movement. Some of us held on to Francophonie culture longer than most, but the disintegration of the ethnic neighborhoods, while a positive thing required for general assimilation, removed the need to hang onto the language. English became the primary language simply because our circles became less and less French. Our friends were also Irish, Polish, Greek and so on. Even in my Franco-American grammar school, we had Bagdonas and Grillakis mixed in among all the Chandonets, Papillons and so on. Among my high school circle of friends, you could find Morin, Mailloux, Desmarais, Couture, Harvey. But you could also find Lawson and Sousa. Assimilation was necessary but not without cost.
That said, it is nice to go back to the “old country”, where people know how to pronounce my name, where the land contains distant memories of my ancestors’ footprints and toil. They say you can never go home and it is true. The land and its people and even its churches change over time and, as my genealogy drives have taught me, the 1800s were a long time ago. Even Notre-Dame-du-Mont-Carmel is not the town of my mother’s memories. Life moves ever forward. However, the cultural terroir of Québec keeps calling me.
Never say never.
Je me souviens.